


Not Meant to Be

by jeanniebillroth



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Child Loss, F/M, Future Fic, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Original Character Death(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-09-07 02:49:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20302213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeanniebillroth/pseuds/jeanniebillroth
Summary: Lorelai and Luke face life after loss. (Originally written in 2004, thus AU)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story between August and Christmas 2004 and posted it on fanfiction.net and on two Gilmore Girls-specific archive sites, both of which have since gone offline. Now I've decided to upload the story here as well because I enjoy AO3 a great deal and would like to have my stories all in one place. Please keep in mind that I wrote this when Gilmore Girls was in the middle of its original run - the first episode of season 5 had not aired yet when I originally posted the first chapters. So while this story was future fic/speculation back then, it now constitutes a complete divergence from canon. Neither April and Anna Nardini, nor Logan Huntzberger exist in this universe.
> 
> I am merging short chapters into longer ones as I post, and I am also revising a little bit, but nothing major. By and large, I want to preserve the story as I originally wrote it.

Luke knows what he should be doing right now: He should be in there, comforting her. Hugging her, stroking her messed-up hair, telling her it's not her fault.

He should be wiping her tears, let her hit him in powerless desperation, all while holding back his own tears.

He should be strong for her, for God's sake.

But instead he finds himself sitting on a chair in the hallway, bent over in grief, unable to go back inside, unable to keep from sobbing quietly into the flannel of his sleeves. He doesn't know for how long he's been sitting here like this, head in his hands, trying to muster up enough courage to go back inside.

They sent him out so they could get her stitched up and cleaned after the ordeal she's been through. When he left the room, he saw from the corner of his eye how a nurse gathered up the sheets from Lorelai’s bed and stuffed them into a large hamper on the far side of the room. So much blood. He can’t get the image of those bloody sheets out of his mind.

Luke is sure that by now they're done in there, but still he can't make his feet move, his body feels as if it were glued to the chair. He flexes his hand as he remembers her steely grip on his hand and her screams from earlier echo in his ears.

All the pain, he thinks, all the pain, and it was all for nothing.

Rory and the grandparents should be arriving any minute now. He called them when it seemed like it wouldn't take much longer. And right after they sent him out, he tried to reach them again, on all three of their cell phones, but without any luck. He can only hope that whoever they ask for directions to Lorelai’s room will have enough sense to inform him of their arrival first so that he can break it to them. He has no idea how exactly he is going to tell them without going to pieces right then and there. But he has to manage somehow, because under no circumstances does he want Lorelai to be forced to explain anything.

"Mr. Danes?" The voice is familiar. It's the doctor who's just left Lorelai’s room. The door is still slightly ajar behind her.

He looks up into the doctor's drawn face. The lines around her mouth and nose seem to have deepened since he last took a good look at her sometime before everything went to shit.

The words that pour out of the doctor's mouth don't make it to the area of his brain where they'd be processed. Luke just nods whenever it seems appropriate and finally manages to get up from his chair to shake the woman’s hand. When the doctor has disappeared down the hallway, he finally has no choice but to go back inside.

He wipes his face with a remaining dry patch of sleeve, takes off his baseball cap and places it on one of the chairs in the hallway. Then he pushes the door open completely and sets foot into the four walls that should've been witness to their greatest happiness. 

The room is bathed in sunlight. When they first came here, it was still dark outside. And there Lorelai is, lying in the very same bed he left her in half an eternity ago. Only now she's not in stirrups any more and she's under the covers, wearing a clean night gown. It's the one from her bag, he notices. The one with the button-down front. She's not going to need that now.

The moment the door closes behind him, she turns away from the windows she's been facing and looks at him. Her dark hair is not up in a ponytail any more, it has obviously been combed and the long curls framing her face make it appear even paler. She tries what looks like a weak smile, but of course she fails and has to cover her mouth with one hand to stifle a sob.

He rushes over to her bedside and takes her free hand in his. It's ice-cold. No comparison to the hand he held hours ago. That one was hot and sweaty from exertion, full of life.

"Luke", she whispers almost inaudibly, and a second later throws both her arms around his neck, holding on to him for dear life.

"How could this happen?" Her voice is shaky and because he doesn't know the answer to her question, he just hugs her back and starts softly stroking her back.

For once at a loss for words, Lorelai also doesn’t say anything else. The only sound are her muffled sobs as her tears soak through the shoulder of his shirt.

That shirt – it’s the one with the blue and green checkered pattern, and when he put it on in the middle of the night, he expected to become a father in it. 

~*~

Emily strides through the hallways as if the whole hospital belonged to her.

Normally, Richard would be able to keep up with his wife easily, having grown accustomed to the force with which she takes on the world. But the dangling gift bags and unwieldy flowers and balloons slow him down considerably.

So he is content to join Rory in the second row. He can't but smile to himself at the sight of his wife, so obviously excited. Who would have thought this day would ever come? That Emily and Richard Gilmore would gladly set out to welcome their second grandchild, born to their daughter and a man who flips burgers for a living?

But here they are, gleeful anticipation written all over their faces as they make their way through a maze of hallways that all look the same. 

When they finally reach the maternity ward, Emily is quick to find a nurse and ask her for the whereabouts of their daughter. What happens next strikes him as odd. They are asked to sit down in the waiting room, a nurse at the desk picks up the phone and turns away from them as she talks, other nurses offer them coffee.

When they begin to ask questions he thinks that he sees something like compassion in the nurses' eyes as they apologize for not being allowed to tell them anything. One nurse promises to go and get Mr. Danes. 

Or is he imagining things?

"It all went well, didn't it?" Emily anxiously grabs hold of his forearm, the joyful expression has long vanished from her face.

"Of course", he says, patting her hand mechanically, hardly believing his own words, fervently wishing that he is misreading this situation.

Rory sits next to him, eyeing the passing nurses and doctors suspiciously. The slender fingers she inherited from her mother tightly clutch the purse that's resting in her lap. When she notices that Richard is looking at her, she just shrugs her shoulders at him. He deliberately avoids looking her directly in the eye for fear that she might see through his façade.

All of a sudden he wonders why Lorelai's voice is nowhere to be heard. Normally one would expect that the minute they come anywhere close to her room, her constant chatter would be audible. But nothing. The only things he hears is the occasional wailing of a newborn behind closed doors somewhere, and Emily next to him, taking deep breaths every couple of seconds and shuffling her feet.

In an attempt to calm her down, he gently places one hand above her knee. She immediately covers it with one of hers. It feels cold. He knows that she's nervous.

Before he can decide upon anything to say in order to ease the tension building up around them, a nurse approaches them.

"Are you the Gilmores?" Her voice sounds friendly, though not overly joyful. Didn't they just become grandparents and big sister? Shouldn't she be happier to finally show them to Lorelai's room?

"Will you now finally tell us where we can find our daughter?" asks Emily in a voice that betrays a mixture of indignation and worry.

"Would you just like to follow me, Mr. Danes will be ready to meet you in a minute", the nurse replies, nice but not very helpful, and motions for them to follow her through two sets of double doors and more hallways.  
She eventually leaves them alone next to a row of chairs mounted against the wall.

He sets down the bags, flowers, and balloons on one of the chairs and notices a dark blue baseball cap lying on another one.

Rory, who has also noticed the baseball cap, picks it up and almost instantly a smile spreads across her face.

"Isn't that Luke's?" she waves the cap in front of his face. "So they must be in there", she concludes, pointing at the door next to the chairs.

Emily has managed to recover her smile and is about to knock on the door when it opens from the inside.

From his position in the hallway, Richard is the first to see who's coming out of the room. And the smile that he felt tugging at the corners of his mouth freezes the very second he catches full sight of the man standing in the doorframe.


	2. Chapter 2

Rory sees her grandfather's face fall and from then on, everything is a blur.

Only fragments of sentences like "umbilical cord" and "wrapped around his neck" and "tried to resuscitate" make it through the curtain of disbelief that has fallen around her. A burning sensation behind her eyeballs reminds her that she's not dreaming.

"When?" A distraught Grandma asks in a voice that is unusually thin and low.

"About two hours ago." Luke looks as if he hasn't slept in days.

Needing to sit down, she simply follows the impulse and plops to the ground right where she's standing. The grandparents sit down in the chairs, their faces as white as the wall they rest their heads against. Her gaze falls onto the balloons and flowers on the chair next to Grandpa. She thinks she's going to be sick.

Luke just stands there, in the middle of the hallway, staring off into space, his hands cramped in fists, knuckles turned white.

"Can I go in and see Mom?" Rory hears herself ask.

"Sure", Luke sounds very different from when she talked to him on the phone this morning, when he told her it wouldn't be long any more. And in a way he was right, she thinks, disgusted at herself for making that connection.

After a brief struggle to muster up enough strength in her wobbly legs, she gets up from the floor and walks over to the door Luke so quickly closed behind him when he came out to talk to them.

When Rory steps into the room, at first it's so bright compared to the windowless hallway that she can't make out any details. The sunny day outside is cruelly oblivious to the tragedy that has just befallen the family.

Soon Rory's eyes get accustomed to the brightness. Her mother, Lorelai Gilmore, the indestructible, is lying in bed, facing away from her. The moment is not at all what Rory imagined it to be.

"Mom." At that, Lorelai turns her head.

Rory is taken aback by the unusual fragility displayed in her mother's features: eyes all red and puffy, her skin looking almost see-through, and then there are her tangled dark curls, falling over her shoulders beautifully – and beauty is so out of place right now. 

Seeing her daughter in the room, Lorelai sits up a little in bed and it looks like as if she tries to smile. And fails. A pained expression takes over her features, causing something in Rory's chest to twitch painfully.

She puts her hand into the one her mother extends to her and sits down on her bedside. Carefully though, not wanting to cause her any discomfort.

"This is the only nightgown I brought", Lorelai half-cries, tugging at the buttoned front with her free hand. 

"I'm so sorry, Mom." In order to not let her see the quivering of her bottom lip, she leans forward and envelops Lorelai in a careful hug.

"I'm the one who should be sorry", Lorelai sniffles. "I failed him. They wanted me to push. And I couldn't do it fast enough. When he came out he was blue, and they- "

"It's not your fault. It's no one's fault." Rory tightens the embrace, so as if to give more weight to her words.

"I know. But it still hurts so much."

"I know."

They sit silently for a while, just holding each other and Rory feels her mother's hot tears soaking the shoulder part of her blouse.

"Where's Luke?" Lorelai pulls away from her.

"He's outside with Grandma and Grandpa."

"I don't want them to see me like this." She wipes at her swollen eyes with trembling fingers.

"Do you want Luke to come back in?"

"Yeah", comes a hoarse whisper.

Before Rory can say anything else, her mother suddenly starts rummaging through the contents of the top drawer in the nightstand. She produces something small and shiny and hands it to her.

"He took it off because he was afraid I might break his fingers when I was-", she swallows audibly, "could you give it to him?"

It's Luke's wedding band. 

"I love you so much, Mom." Rory leans over and pecks her mother on her pale cheek.

"Go home, Rory. You don't need to see me like this, either."

Rory says nothing and slides off the bed, heading for the door, when she hears Lorelai's voice behind her.

"We hadn't even agreed on a name yet, you know? We thought it'd be easier to see what he looks like and then-", she doesn't finish the sentence.

Rory's grip on the door handle tightens as she remembers the folded up list of names in her handbag. Just in case, she recalls her thought from this morning, just in case they don't know yet what to write onto that little wristband they get at the hospital.

She still can’t wrap her head around the fact that whatever name her brother is given will now be chiseled in stone instead.

Out in the hallway, she hands Luke his wedding band and then watches him slide it over his finger in what seems like slow-motion. 

“Mom asked for you.”

Luke gives her shoulder a quick squeeze and slips back into the room.

Rory sits down next to her grandmother. She has no idea where her grandfather might have gone, but notices that the flowers along with the stupid balloons and the bags full of presents aren't there any more.

After a while, Luke comes back out into the hallway and they can hear Lorelai sob through the open door. Emily makes to get up from her chair, but Lukes shakes his head no.

“I’m sorry, she’s not up to any more visitors.”

Emily leans back and just nods at Luke, her eyes brimming with tears. “Give Lorelai my love, will you?”

Luke nods back at her and indicates with a hand gesture that he will go back inside now. Rory watches him duck back inside and painfully swallows back tears.

After a while, Richard returns from wherever he's been and motions for them to get up.

"We'll go to our place. There's nothing for us to do around here", he orders and Rry and Emily follow him down the hallways, too despondent to even try and protest.

~*~

Luke pulls into the driveway and once the truck has come to a standstill, activates the parking brake, simultaneously removing the key from the ignition. The headlights die down. He only realizes that the car radio was switched on during the entire drive when suddenly it's completely silent inside the cabin.

Hidden in the shade behind the bushes next to the porch, they giggle quietly.

He gathers his stuff from the passenger seat and then gets out of the truck. Or so he thinks. In truth he remains sitting there, holding on to the green sports bag in his lap. Baby clothes. She didn't want them at the hospital any more. He isn't sure what he is supposed to do with them, though.

They shrug their shoulders at each other. "Maybe he's tired?" one of them offers.

Finally his limbs react to what his brain demands of them and they slowly set him in motion. As he climbs out of his truck, he feels like an old man, aching all over.

They grab everything they need, now ready to jump.

He mounts the steps leading onto the porch. His right hand clutches the sports bag, the other one fumbles for the key in his jeans pocket.

From their position, it's impossible to see his face. It's already pretty dark, after all.

He has finally found the key and is about to stick it into the keyhole when all hell breaks loose.

They jump up, they laugh, they throw balloons and confetti. They even carry a banner.

He is sure this must be a nightmare. But it isn't. It's almost the whole of Stars Hollow, congratulating him. A pacifier hits him in the head. From what he can make out in the darkness of the porch, it's blue.

Not knowing what else to do, he does the only thing he's good at in situations that scare him. He yells.

"Get the hell out of here! Goddamn idiots!"

They are silent. Now close enough, they can look him in the eyes. And what they see, explains a lot.

"Luke..." one of them says after a while.

He doesn't show any kind of reaction, standing there in front of the door, furiously trying to get it to open, so he can be safe from them. But fitting the key into the narrow lock isn't so easy because his hands are trembling violently.

Eventually Miss Patty takes they key from him and unlocks the door. It takes her only seconds to perform the task.

"What happened? Is it Lorelai?" she asks, panic resonating in her voice.

"It's not Lorelai. I can't talk about it right now. You gotta understand. Just get off my back! And take all that ba–", he pauses involuntarily and swallows a couple of times, "take all that stuff with you. I don't wanna see it anywhere near the house!" 

With that, he closes the door in their faces.

Outside they hear a loud thud against the door only seconds after it has been shut.

Inside he lets himself collapse against the door that shields him from their questioning looks and pitiful facial expressions. Preparing himself to let everything out, he buries his head in his crossed forearms and finally releases scream that has been stuck in his throat ever since he left Lorelai at the hospital this evening.

They pause their shuffling about for a moment and raise their heads when they hear him cry out. Then they proceed to do their best removing all traces of the celebration they can't believe they're not going to have tonight.

He looks at the green sports bag next to him on the floor, and although he knows that they only meant well, Luke secretly hopes that they feel at least half as terrible as he does.

If he could see the citizens of Stars Hollow walking home tonight, he would see his wish fulfilled.

~*~

The night is moonlit. There are a couple of clouds, driven across the sky by a light but steady summer wind. Grey patterns dance on the ceiling.

Lorelai opens her eyes and at first doesn't know where she is. When she makes an attempt to turn onto her side – she doesn't like sleeping on her back – the soreness of her entire abdomen painfully yanks her from her drowsy state.

Instinctively she peers over to her bedside, looking for the basket her child must be sleeping in. But there is no basket. And within tenths of seconds, it all comes back to her.

Not only is there no basket, but there is also no baby. At least no baby that is alive.

No baby.

Two words that make her cheeks burn, that make everything hurt twice as much as before, that make her want to grab a fistful of her own dark hair and tear at it until it falls out.

She lets her head sink back against the pillows. Lying on her back like this, with her eyes wide open and her mind achingly alert, she slowly lowers her gaze, away from the ceiling and down onto her body.

How she hated her huge belly during the last weeks of her pregnancy. Now she wishes she could go back to those nights when her son would keep her awake by giving her swift kicks in the ribs. 

She fingers the button-down front of her night gown, gingerly touching the swell of her breasts underneath the soft material. They already gave her medication to keep her milk from coming in. Swallowing the pills felt like the height of betrayal somehow. 

Luke's face appears before her mind's eye.

The face she looked at in between the final pushes that were supposed to save her baby's life, although she wasn't fully aware of that at the time.

The face that was so full of anticipation and compassion. 

The face that was so full of horror and utter disbelief only minutes later when they watched the doctors' futile attempts to bring their baby boy back to life.

The face he buried in her hair earlier that night, unaware that she only pretended to be asleep.

The face that they saw mirrored in the features of their tiny son only hours ago when they were given time to say their goodbyes.

Lorelai reaches over to the nightstand and picks up the small paper cup that one of the nurses left there for her. 

"In case you have trouble sleeping." 

She empties the contents into her mouth and swallows, hoping she won't remember her dreams in the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

Emily watches the brown liquid slosh around in the brandy glass as she moves her right hand a little this way, and back a little that way. Over and over again.

She's been at it for quite a while now and doesn't have the intention of stopping any time soon. The repetitive motion soothes her, she finds that she doesn’t have to think all too much as long as her hands are busy.

Normally it is very unlike her to put her feet up on any piece of furniture, but tonight she's making an exception. She occupies the entire length of the sofa while Richard, also holding on to his third or fourth drink of the night, has retreated to the armchair.

Neither of them has spoken a single word in some time and when she looks up every now and then, stealing glances at his face, she can see that he's doing no better than her. Pursed lips, furrowed brows, loosened tie and rolled-up sleeves – she remembers only one occasion more than twenty years ago that had him look similarly troubled and exhausted: Lorelai confessing to them she was pregnant.

"Isn't it strange?" his voice cuts through the silence suddenly.

"Isn't what strange?" she asks weakly, staring into her glass.

"We were actually looking forward to it this time."

"Yes. We were."

Silence falls once again, and Emily succumbs to her thoughts after all. Would it have lead to a different outcome had they not been full of happy anticipation this time? After all, everything went well the first time, when to say they felt ambivalent would have been putting it mildly, and when she wasn't exactly ecstatic at the prospect of becoming a grandmother just yet, and when they weren't loaded with gifts.

Richard had been wearing the wrong shoes and she had been furious because Lorelai banned her from the delivery room.

In the back of her mind Emily knows that questions like these are ridiculous, that the future grandparents' attitude could not possibly have anything to do with the grandchild's well-being. But still she seems to be unable to refrain from entertaining this kind of mind game. It's very tempting to try and find someone or something to blame for this tragedy.

"Where did you put everything?" she asks in an attempt to push the thoughts out of her mind again.

"Excuse me?"

"What did you do with the flower and the balloons when you 'went for a walk' at the hospital?" she clarifies.

"I put them back in the trunk", he admits, "I didn't know what else to do with them."

"Why didn't you just throw them away or give them to someone at the hospital? We won't be needing flowers or balloons around here for a long time."

As much as she tries, Emily is unable to hide the hint of anger in her voice. He has to make it extra hard on everybody, doesn't he? 

"Giving them away would've felt like losing him all over again", he states quietly. It almost sounds like a confession of personal failure.

Richard sets his drink down on the small table to the right of the armchair.

"A boy”, he says to the room.

"A boy”, she repeats and swallows.

"Do you think they already had a name for him?"

"I don't know." 

Emily asks herself how long it's been since she last cried in front of her own husband at the same time that she feels the first tear run down her cheek. Her fingers clutch the glass in her lap very tightly.

"Emily", he breathes and in one swift movement he is next to her on the sofa with her feet up in his lap. His large hand grabs hold of her much smaller ones, trembling around the half-empty glass in her lap.

Although she doesn't like to let her guard down in front of anyone – most of the time not even Richard – she finds herself making another exception aside from the propped-up feet as she gives in to the sobs bubbling up from her chest.

"She's strong, Richard, isn't she?"

"She is a strong woman and she has Luke and Rory, they're going to make it through", he says, squeezing her hands reassuringly.

"I'm not sure whether I would've been able to survive something like this", she blurts out. 

Memories of the month in 1985 that she spent curled up in bed flood her brain. She lets go of the glass and starts to move in order to get closer to Richard. Brandy spills all over her dress and onto the sofa, but she doesn't care one bit.

~*~

Upstairs, Rory can't understand anything they say, all she hears are muffled voices and most of the time it's completely silent, anyway. That's why she excused herself half an hour ago. The combination of endless sadness and silence had begun to feel unbearable.

At first she tries lying down on her bed in the room Emily once set up for her in the Gilmore home. It doesn't work, she isn't tired at all.

Then she tries expressing her feelings on the Hello Kitty notepad she has found in the top drawer of the heavy wooden desk that sits in the corner of the room. The page remains blank.

Then she gets herself ready for bed, thinking that by doing so she can maybe trick her body and mind into making her feel at least a little bit tired. No such luck.

Still wide awake, she tiptoes across the hallway to her mom's old room. A strange sense of comfort settles around her. There’s the dollhouse. Rory suddenly finds herself wondering whether anyone ever bothered to remove the dolls and furniture from it or whether they are still in there, quietly collecting dust and cobwebs.

She walks around the house and peers inside through its open back side. Someone has mounted a glass panel to it, so there is not the slightest trace of dust, the part of herself that also likes to separate laundry into piles of different colors and different shades of those colors can't help but notice. Inside the rooms and corridors everything looks as if its young owner might return any minute to resume playing.

There is an unrealistically large amount of people "living" in the dollhouse. However, Rory's painfully unerring gaze soon falls onto one particular scene displayed in one of the rooms on the second floor.

A female and a male doll bent over a small crib. She can't see what's inside the crib, but all of a sudden she thinks she can make out the expression on the dolls' faces. There are tears running down their cheeks, the corners of their artfully modeled mouths pointing downwards. Then she knows that the crib must be empty.

She blinks. This can't be real.

And it isn't. But the overwhelming urge to call Luke is.

She almost runs back to her own room, flops down onto the bed and yanks her cell phone out of the handbag she discarded there earlier.

When she has already given up hope that he might pick up the phone and her thumb is hovering over the button that will end this attempted phone call, she finally hears his voice.

"Yeah", he slurs.

"Luke, it's me, Rory", she says.

"Rory."

"Yeah. I just – I wanted to make sure you're alright."

"Yah.” he snorts bitterly.

"I'm sorry", she whispers.

"How're you, your grandparents?" he manages to ask.

"We're trying to- H-how was Mom when you went home?"

"Finally asleep. She's very exhausted, you know?" his voice sounds thinner now and a little clearer.

"Of course. Luke, I-", she doesn't get a chance to finish her sentence.

"We got to see him. Say goodbye." The slur is back in his voice.

"What?" What did he just say?

"We named him Julian", it almost sounds as if he's crying now. She has never heard or seen Luke cry.

"That's a wonderful name, Luke", she replies quietly and then bites her lip before tentatively saying her brother's name for the first time.

"Julian."

"Yeah", he sounds a little bit clearer again, but still quite drunk, "Rory, I'm pretty tired, too. I-"

"Of course", this time she's the one interrupting. "Go to bed, Luke. Good night."

"Night."

"I love you and Mom", Rory says, trying not to say again how sorry she is.

"Thank you, Rory. I just-" he doesn't continue the sentence.

"Night", she gently wishes.

"Yeah. See you tomorrow at the hospital?"

"I’ll be there."

"Alright." At least that's what she thinks he says.

And then line clicks, he has hung up.

She tosses the phone at the pile of pillows at the top end of the bed and makes her way over to the desk, sits down and picks up the ball-point from earlier.

Not much later, she gets back up and into bed, not setting an alarm, but trusting that either Emily or Richard will wake her up the next morning.

There's a single word written on the Hello Kitty-adorned piece of paper that she carefully places on the pillow next to her:

JULIAN

She is still infinitely sad. But now that she knows whom they are mourning, it seems a little more bearable.


	4. Chapter 4

Looked at objectively, the morning of her homecoming is an exceptionally beautiful one.

Fleecy clouds are scattered across the bright blue sky and the expensive cars in the hospital parking lot sparkle in the sunshine. A light wind stirs the leaves of a tall tree the top branches of which reach up to her window on the fourth floor.

Lorelai pulls the chair from her bedside over to the window and slowly lowers her body onto the seat. Damn episiotomy.

Here she sits, hands burrowed into the pockets of her pink fuzzy bathrobe, her hair still wet from the shower she just took, staring at her pale reflection in the window pane.

Thank God hospital policy doesn't allow visitors to come before noon.

Thirty more minutes during which she can just be herself lie ahead of her and she sighs gladly. Thirty minutes until she will be forced to return to the world of the living, once and for all. A world that includes an inn that needs to be run, dozens of nosy townies, a family and a husband who deserve to be loved and a nursery that needs to be ... She doesn't dare to think of what they'll have to do to the nursery. And what if he's already done it? Cleared it out.

She dreads going home. And she feels guilty because of that. Unconsciously, she begins biting her bottom lip as she makes a feeble try at sorting through her muddled feelings.

It's not that she didn't like to have her family and friends around at the hospital, she did. The problem simply was that they didn't manage to make her feel much better – when her visitors left, she usually felt completely exhausted.

In the back of her mind she knows that this is a logical consequence of putting on a show for people. 'Wonder Woman Somehow Still Hanging in There'. Yeah. That's what her show should be called.

They all tried to reach out to her, to help her get through this. And she did them the favor of not crying or screaming although she certainly felt like it 59 seconds out of 60.

The hours Rory spent stroking her back while she stared into space and gritted her teeth, Emily's silent embraces, Richard's ’I love you, Lorelai’, Sookie’s pastries and cookies, and Luke's almost constant presence in the hospital she knows he hates – all of these gestures warmed her heart, but they weren't able to melt its frozen core.

It seems that it would be better for her family and friends to just leave her alone in the future. Afraid of dragging them down with her, she is not going to risk taking the hands she is offered, anyway.

Taking their hands would mean crying and screaming. And she doesn't want them to have to put up with that. When from time to time they already feel annoyed by a witty and talkative Lorelai, how can she expect them to endure a Lorelai frantic with grief and anger?

She decides that the black hole she's been living in for the past week is to remain hers alone. She will find a way out of it on her own and sets her jaw in sullen determination.

"Hey", Luke’s tentative greeting from across the room snaps her out of her thoughts.

"Hey yourself." Seems like visiting hours have begun. Time to go home.

Luke is next to her now, bends down and places a small kiss on her right cheek. He's clean shaven. For the special occasion, she snorts inwardly.

"How're you doing?"

"Okay."

"Packed up your stuff already?"

"Nope." Monosyllabic answers were never her thing. Until this week.

"Why not?" he inquires gently. Apprehension in his voice. “Didn’t they say we could-“

"Because I was too damn tired!" She cuts him off harshly. And she really doesn't want to snap at him, but it just happens.

"I’m sorry."

When she turns around she sees him reaching into the closet, stuffing her clothes into a red sports bag.

"You realize that I'm still wearing my bathrobe, don't you?"

"I ... uh, sure. Here." With that, he places the bag on the bed, motioning for her to get up and pick out clothes to wear for the ride home.

She gets up from the chair with a sigh and makes her way over to the bed. His eyes follow her as she walks, but she doesn't look up to meet the gaze she can feel on every inch of her skin.

When did she forget how to chatter through every moment of her life, never mind how uncomfortable or embarrassing?

Mindlessly, she grabs some articles of clothing and disappears into the adjoining bathroom. Behind her back she hears him shift his weight from one foot to the other and then turn around to finish emptying out her closet.

The bathrobe is quickly discarded onto the floor and when she is about to pull up a pair of sweatpants, she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She still looks pregnant. That's entirely normal of course. But also so utterly fucked up somehow. Her baby DIED and still she has to look like this.

Lorelai gulps down a sob and slips on a hooded sweater before hastily turning to leave the bathroom. Her foot gets caught in the fuzzy pink material of her bathrobe, which is still on the floor, and she loses her balance.

Before she knows what exactly has happened, he is already there, kneeling beside her on the white tiles.

"I ... I just -" she stutters, tears beginning to blur her vision. It didn't even hurt that bad.

"Shh, it's okay. Are you hurt? Can you move?"

"Yeah, I'm alright", she sniffles, already struggling to get to her feet. Wonder Woman.

She really doesn’t want to, but still finds herself collapsing against his broad shoulders, sheer exhaustion suddenly weighing her down and threatening to crush her.

She feels so sore inside and out. The pulse beat hammering in her ears reminds her of a noise she immediately associates with the sonogram appointments they went to.

"I miss him so much!" she cries.

"I know you do." His arms reach around her and he draws her closer.

"How can I miss someone I never even met?" her voice has turned into a whisper.

"But we met him, Lorelai. It's okay for you to miss him. I miss him, too", he says, in a soothing tone.

"This isn't fair!"

"No, it’s not."

"I don't want to go home, Luke. I'm afraid everything's going to remind me of him. And I'm afraid nothing's going to remind me of him. I don't know what I want!" 

Her fear of facing the inevitable is back. She doesn't want the nursery to be there when she comes home and she doesn't want it to be gone, either. All she wants is their son.

"We can-"

"What if someone in town sees us coming home? What if they ask about the baby?"

"They won't, Lorelai."

"Did you tell them?" she asks in a shrill voice.

"They just won't, believe me. They're not going to ask."

"What happened?"

"You sure you want to hear about it?"

"Luke!" She pulls away from him and gives him a determined look through eyes that are shining with tears.

"Alright. They were all there. Wh- when I came home the first night. Something like a surprise party." As he relates the entire sad tale, the tone of his voice betrays how much it still hurts.

"Oh God", is all she can manage before she sinks back into his embrace. 

But he can’t let her rest there.

"Come on. We need to get going", he says gently and makes to slip out of their embrace.

"No."

"Yes, we do. The floor's too cold."

"I don't care."

Wordlessly, he helps her to her feet and really it is him doing most of the work of pulling her up.

"Luke?" she asks as soon as she is standing next to him.

"Yeah?"

"You know I love you, right?"

"Of course. I love you, too. Let's go home, okay?" He places a soft kiss on her forehead and for the first time in days they really look at each other. 

Hurt and despair are written all over his face and she knows that there's nothing left in her eyes that could accidentally remind him of the Wonder Woman he married one and a half years ago.

But she doesn't allow herself this utter vulnerability for very long. Feeling the need to brace herself for the walk through the hospital corridors and especially for the ride home and through Stars Hollow, she orders Wonder Woman to appear on stage this minute.

And so Wonder Woman appears, although somewhat weakened by her fall to the bathroom floor and into his arms.

After he has collected the last items from the nightstand and folded the tangled mass that is her formerly beloved bathrobe, Luke wraps his arm around Lorelai's shoulders and they leave the room without looking back.

Perhaps she will eventually consider accepting support from the people in her life. Even Wonder Woman needs a hand every now and then.


	5. Chapter 5

They sign Lorelai out at the nurses' desk, confirming that yes, she's had the last check-up this morning and that yes, she'll be seeing her obstetrician in due time. Do they want the nurse to give them a list of places they can get counseling at, in case they feel they need it?

Lorelai takes the list, hands it to Luke, and he stuffs it into his jeans pocket. Sweat breaks out on his forehead at the thought of the infamous "couch" every person offering counseling inevitably owns. At least that’s how he imagines it. He gives her a gentle squeeze with the arm that is still wrapped around her shoulders and then they walk down endless white and artificially illuminated hallways towards fresh air and daylight. Finally, he thinks.

When they step out into the parking lot, his forehead has dried and he doesn't leave her side until they have arrived at the passenger side of the car. He opens the door for Lorelai and then watches her climb into the seat.

He can't help but wince when he hears her moan a little as she sits down, but at the same time there's absolutely nothing he can do about that, so he doesn’t even ask if she’s alright. He knows she’s not. Some scars, the emotional ones, they share, but not the one causing her pain right now.

He gets into the driver's seat and sees her fasten her seatbelt from the corner of his eye.

"You ready?"

"No", she simply states and then turns to look at him with a small, sad smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “But 'no' isn’t really an option here, is it?"

"No, it’s not", he says and shakes his head. Not knowing what else to do with his hands while he waits to see whether she is going to say anything else or if this is it, he keeps them busy by adjusting and re-adjusting his baseball cap.

Meanwhile, she settles back into her seat and sighs. It occurs to him that in a situation like this – when he has to deny her something – she usually is quick to make a witty comment showing her disapproval or mocking him because he once again has to act as the voice of reason. Not so this time.

"Let's get going, then". 

Now that's something he can work with.

But when he is about to turn the key in the ignition, a sudden vision of what should have been afflicts him, causing his hand to stop mid-motion.

Their baby boy in the backseat.

Next to him Lorelai, and an extra bag full of balloons and presents. Not just the stupid red sports bag.

He can see (and hear) himself honking the truck's horn upon their arrival in Stars Hollow. How very out of character that would have been. Luke, honking for reasons other than another driver’s annoying behavior. And how it would have felt utterly great nonetheless.

Announcing the homecoming of Stars Hollow's newest mother and baby. 

Well, today it's just the mother he's about to bring home. Julian is to follow as soon as arrangements have been made.

Arrangements ... Do they even manufacture caskets that small? They have an appointment at the funeral home at the end of the week, that’s when they’re going to find out. 

"Come on." She says, and with that pops his thought bubble. The tone of her voice is gentle as her left hand touches his right. He is looks down at their hands and sees himself clutching the car keys with while knuckles.

"Sorry", he mumbles almost completely under his breath and then doesn't lose any time to start the car.

It seems that neither of them knows what they are supposed to talk about once they are out on the city streets and later on the highway that lead them home. After all, there is nothing to talk about except what is missing and what that means and how they are ever going to come out on the other side of this. Nothing they can discuss with the sunny countryside of Connecticut flying by outside the window and while there is traffic that he needs to pay attention to.

So he focuses on the driving, silently wondering when life will matter to them again.

While in the hospital, she never wanted him to buy her a newspaper or a magazine, so after a couple of half-hearted attempts he quit asking. The newspapers that get delivered to their doorstep every morning are currently piling up on the kitchen table, unread. Neither he nor Rory have switched on the TV since it happened. He can't even remember what exactly they did when they weren't at the hospital or at the grandparents' house.

Thank God for Lane and Caesar, he thinks as an image of the diner pops up in front of his mind's eye. They offered to keep things running for as long as he needed them to, and he handed them the reins without protest.

Luke still finds himself completely disinterested in whatever might be going on outside of the microcosm that is his family, and he suspects that Lorelai feels the same way. Otherwise she wouldn't have had him turn off the radio the very moment they pulled out of the hospital parking lot.

"Please, can we not?"

Sitting next to him with her head leaning against the window, hands folded in her lap, she is just as silent as she has been all week.

As often as he wished for Lorelai to be rendered speechless at least once, he certainly never thought that one day it would really happen. At least not this way.

Today the well-meaning citizens of Stars Hollow have mercy on them. Hardly anyone is out and about when they drive through what could be referred to as the downtown area and they reach home without being stopped a single time. Even the usually unpredictable traffic light with the apparent dislike for his wife doesn't dare to switch to red when they approach it.

They are spared all the awkwardness that would surely have ensued once a familiar face out in the streets had given in to the need to greet or even try and console them. And man, is he glad for it.

Luke is unaware of the huge sigh he heaves as soon as he switches the truck into park in their driveway. Only the distorted smile she offers him in return makes him realize that he must have made some sort of noise.

~*~

"Do you want to go inside?" he finally asks.

"Do we have a choice?" she replies dully.

"I don't think so."

"Alright. Who's there?" she asks, even though judging from the cars parked along the side of the road she gleans that it must be Rory, Emily and Richard.

"Rory. And your parents wanted to come over. I couldn't keep them-"

“That’s fine”, she says softly. 

Then, with a slow turn of her head: "What did you do with the nur- ", she pauses, "with the room?" Breathe, Lorelai!

"I didn't do anything. I mean, I was going to- but then I thought we might want to do it together. You know, to-"

He just stops there. 

Lorelai nods.

“That was a good idea. We’ll do it together. When the time is right.” That last part comes out as barely more than a whisper. Her eyes are suddenly threatening to spill over with tears. Blowing out a shaky breath, she reaches for his hand. 

His fingers rub circles across her knuckles as they stay seated in the car for a little while longer, fortifying themselves for what’s next. 

Lorelai is afraid like she has never been before. Not even when she was 16 and had to tell her parents she was pregnant. Not even when she ran away with little Rory in the middle of the night with no idea where to go. Not even when she and Luke took the plunge and got married after dating for less than 6 months.

Eventually, she withdraws her hand and gives Luke a watery smile.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Ok, let’s go.” And with that, she reaches for the door handle.

~*~

Completely absorbed in thought, she runs her fingers over the rim of the wooden crib set up in the center of the nursery. The wood is cool and smooth under her fingertips and it comes to her mind that this is how the whole room feels to her. Cool, despite the sunlight streaming in through the windows. Light blue curtains shine in an almost unearthly way, every now and then moved by a gentle breeze. It's already May after all.

Her gaze then wanders away from the light to the point that seems to be the darkest in the room. The crib is empty except for fluffy white baby-sized bedclothes and a colorful, furry musical clock tied to the bars at the top end.

That musical clock – they gave it to the expectant parents for Christmas last year. Reluctantly, she allows a smile to take over her face (such an unfamiliar sensation after so many days) at the fond memory of the gleam in Lorelai's eyes after they listened to the clock's lullaby for the first time. 

Emily remembers how triumphant she felt. Finally she had given Lorelai something that would not only be useful to her in the future, but that also seemed to be to her liking.

That gleam and the embrace she and her daughter shared afterwards ... The most fabulous Christmas in years, she thinks, and her smile widens until it gets painful. Then the corners of her mouth drop again.

In an unconscious, because long since automated gesture her hands smooth the fabric of her expensive dress while her eyes stay fixed on the musical clock. Whenever the rings on her fingers come in touch with one of the shiny buttons on the front of her dress, a clicking sound can be heard. So that is what wealth sounds like.

The realization hits her that she would be infinitely glad to do without her membership in numerous exclusive clubs and societies, without maids and without all their money, if only it brought them their grandson back. If only she were be able to reach into the crib right now, pull the string and listen to the musical clock play its lullaby for Julian.

Before she gets the chance to actually give in to temptation and reach for the string, she hears car doors being slammed. Emily moves over to the window, parts the curtains and looks down into the driveway.

There they are, her daughter and son-in-law, slowly making their way to the porch steps, holding each others' hands. She watches them until they disappear under the canopy. Seconds later the front door is opened and shut again.

Lorelai.

Having closed the door of the nursery behind her as quietly as possible, she hurries over to the stairs. After the first few steps she can see four pairs of feet standing in the hallway by the door.

There are Richard's black leather shoes on the left, then Luke's feet clad in his usual brown workman's boots close to a pair of worn-out blue sneakers – these must be Lorelai's – and finally two feet in purple socks standing on tiptoe right next to them. Mother and daughter are obviously hugging each other.

Nobody is speaking. Suddenly the heels of her shoes hitting the stairs seem to make an awful lot of noise as she finishes her way down the stairs and finally joins them in the corridor, once more straightening out her clothes with both hands. Relief washes over her when Richard clears his throat rather loudly, bringing about a wince from Luke and confused glances from his daughter and granddaughter.

Her eyes meet those of her daughter.

"Mom", Lorelai finally says, disengaging from Rory's embrace. Somehow there's an undertone to her voice that Emily can't identify yet. So she decides to do what seems safest right now and simply greets her daughter.

"Lorelai", her hand gently rests on Lorelai's forearm, "it's good to see you."

"What were you doing up there?" She can make out the undertone in her daughter's voice . It's fury. Emily's hand slides off of Lorelai's arm. She certainly wasn't expecting that.

"Lorelai, dear, what-"

"I saw you standing at the window", her daughter explains, looking at her sternly. Once again there's a gleam in Lorelai's eyes, but this time it seems to be brought on by anger rather than joy. Oh, dear.

"I just wanted to-"

"I don't care what you wanted! It was supposed to be his room and it's none of your damn business!"

Staring into Lorelai's pale, angry face, Emily realizes that there are a million things she could say in response to this and they would all be wrong. She can only back off now. They are all hurt and emotionally drained, she reminds herself. Not the time to fight.

"I'm sorry, Lorelai. I never intended to-" Inwardly, she prays that the apologetic look her face has hopefully adopted by now is convincing enough not to let any of the indignity that she is feeling shine through. Of course Lorelai is the baby’s mother, but they all lost that precious little boy, they are all grieving.

"You better be!" her now teary-eyed daughter shoots back. Then Lorelai blinks repeatedly, obviously trying to hold her tears at bay.

Emily opens her mouth in order to say something, but thinks better of it. She really doesn't know what on earth she could say to console and appease Lorelai.

"Come on, let's sit down for a while." Luke's voice somehow breaks the tension. 

With an apologetic look of his own at the innocent bystanders, namely her husband and granddaughter, and an exasperated one at her, Luke leads his wife into the living room. 

Who would have thought that Lorelai Gilmore would ever wordlessly comply with any of her husband's suggestions, resisting not even playfully?

"Grandma, you do you want to help me get something to drink from the kitchen?" Rory looks at her with wide eyes, an offer to help her escape from the awkwardness of the situation.

"Of course, dear." As she gratefully follows Rory into the kitchen, the weakness in her own voice somehow doesn't surprise Emily.


	6. Chapter 6

On the third Thursday in May rain is pouring down on them mercilessly, but she doesn't hear the sound of the drops hitting everyone and everything around her. Later on she won't be able to recall a single word that was spoken during the service. The rushing of blood in her ears is much too loud.

Looking up to where grey clouds travel across an equally grey sky, she remembers that day in English class when they talked about how writers like to employ nature to mirror their characters' emotions. Whoever writes the screenplay of their lives certainly knows their stuff, she decides. This is spot-on.

Sometimes she likes to imagine what the things that she says to herself inside of her own head would sound like if she said them out loud instead. And she almost feels like really giving it a try this time, just to see whether she can scream as loudly as she imagines she would.

Despite the enormous umbrella Luke handed her before they left the house, her clothes are soaked. The new black summer jacket that she bought specifically for the funeral sticks to her back and whenever she moves her toes it feels like there are swimming pools in her shoes.

She would love to take the useless umbrella and beat somebody over the head with it. She would love to turn to her right and hug her mother and cry and cry and cry. But she is Emily Gilmore's granddaughter and she knows how inappropriate that would be at this moment. You are supposed to stare straight ahead at a funeral and not make a big scence. Also, during the past few days Luke was the only person her mother would allow to comfort her.

"Don't worry about me." That's what Lorelai said when they talked on the phone during her two-day stay at Yale this week. Yale seemed to be twice as far away from home when she hung up the receiver. But somehow, however guiltily, she enjoyed the feeling of being far away from Stars Hollow, away from the utter sadness.

At school there were friends to be met, professors to be talked to about the situation that would require her presence at home for another three days, notes to be copied, and so many more things that kept her busy.

Goosebumps spread across her wet back and she clenches her teeth. That little casket is not even half as big as the giant heap of flowers and ribbons piled up next to it.

Her hearing returns for as long as the minister's mouth stops moving. Feet shuffle on wet ground, people make coughing noises, and she thinks that she hears someone whispering her mother's name.

Black umbrellas, hats, hoods and scarves crowd the grounds of the small cemetery behind them. This is another kind of town meeting and for a change, Lorelai Gilmore's place is in the first row. There was no sneaking in late today, there are no bags full of candy being passed between the Gilmore girls. They were the first to arrive and will be the last to leave after the citizens of Stars Hollow have paid her dead brother their respects.

She leans forward a little and turns left to look at her grandparents. Emily and Richard Gilmore know the script required in this situation. Their dignified appearance doesn't betray the dabbing at smudged eye make-up her grandmother had to do in the car or the many times her grandfather cleared his throat and re-adjusted his tie on their way to the cemetery. Emily looks straight ahead and there's only one thing about her grandmother that’s off: No earrings, no necklace, no rings on her fingers, except for her wedding band. Her grandfather stands very straight as he holds a large black umbrella for his wife and himself.

On her right side, her mother is resting her head on Luke's shoulder. Her hair is tied back in a simple ponytail and her left hand rests atop the arm Luke has wrapped around her middle. If Luke's arm disappeared into the back of her shirt instead, Lorelai could be mistaken for a ventriloquist dummy at rest, Rory thinks. Maybe Lorelai took those pills that Luke told her about. He got the prescription filled even though Lorelai swore she wouldn't need them. Just in case.

The ceremony progresses and the minister has resumed talking. Rory is facing the grave again, doing her best to pretend to be listening. Suddenly something hits her umbrella from the side. Averting her gaze from the drenched minister, she realizes that Luke has nudged her umbrella with the one he is holding up for Lorelai and himself.

Ever since her mother's return home last week, Rory has been wondering how on earth Luke does it. From what she has heard and seen, he gets up every morning at the exact same time, prepares Lorelai a breakfast she never eats, brews her a pot of coffee she never touches, and comforts her regardless of what state she may be in that day. Luke has been her mother's rock through all of this.

Now he is wiping at his eyes awkwardly with the hand that holds the umbrella. When he becomes aware of her looking at him, an expression that Rory has never seen before crosses his face. Their gazes lock for a brief moment before she forces a sad smile and then turns away again quickly before he can respond in any way. She feels like such a coward.

~*~

The bedside clock reads 2:53. Richard has been tossing and turning for hours now.

These unbidden images just keep on popping up in front of his mind's eye like a slide show. No matter how hard he tries to think of something else, he can't.

His daughter and son-in-law shaking the hands of dozens of compassionate friends and neighbors parading past the tiny grave. His daughter kneeling on the muddy ground, silently straightening out the ribbons that hang from the pile of flowers on top of the grave. All of them slowly making their way back to the cars, careful not to slip on the wet grass.

He sighs and turns onto his back. 

After the funeral, Lorelai wanted to lie down and they took Rory with them to Hartford for a late lunch. When they were done having coffee, Rory announced - much to their surprise - that she was not going to stay for dinner, or spend the night.

"Are you heading back to Yale, dear?" he asked.

"No, I want to check in on Mom and Luke. I think maybe they could use some company tonight.” 

She sounded both resolved and relieved.

At 3:24, Richard gets out of bed, throws on his robe, and heads downstairs to his study. No point in watching the minutes tick by, replaying the day's events over and over again. If there is no sleep to be had tonight, he may as well get some work done.


	7. Chapter 7

With a click barely audible to the average human ear, a crucial screw falls out of its place and onto the floor. Seconds later he curses for the umpteenth time in the last two hours or so: "Damn!" Ouch.

Another heavy piece of furniture falls apart just in the wrong moment of its disassembly and – of course – another sharp-edged piece of wood collides with his shin.

He really feels like giving it up right then and there. It doesn't seem that anything good is going to come out of his work on this day anyway. But he knows giving up is not an option. He is not going to leave the room like this, a chaotic mess of wood and screws, of pillows and curtains, of toys and clothes, of broken dreams and pain. And he is not thinking of his black and blue shins here.

After all, he gave her his promise. Only under the condition that everything would be gone by the time she came back did she let herself be urged out of the house this morning.

And he is so infinitely glad she dared to take this step out into the world, back into what they used to refer to as their life. It's only Sookie's house and perhaps one or two of the stores in town, but still. Considering that during the past six weeks she never left the house except for their visits to the cemetery and for doctor's appointments, he now feels as if a heavy weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

Sighing deeply, he goes about picking up the wood panels and metal parts that were a changing table only half an hour ago. Then he carries them over to the other side of the room where the parts of what used to be a crib, a couple of shelves, and a rocking chair already sit, waiting for their transport to God-knows-where.

Indeed, he hasn't really thought about this part of the operation yet. Where is he supposed to store what is left of Julian's existence? There isn't enough room in the attic for all of it. Seeing as the attic is the only place in the house that Lorelai never ever frequents (an irrational fear of everything even remotely spider-y keeping her away), this is a problem.

They never talked about what was to happen with the crib, the changing table, the rocking chair and the baby-size linen.

"Make that I don't have to see them anymore. Okay?"

"I will."

"You know, it's not that I don't want to see them anymore, it's just that – I can't. Somehow. I don't know. Do you-" 

From where he stood in the hallway he could see her hands flying through the air, lost in aimless gestures.

"Don't worry, Lorelai. I'll take care of it. Promise." 

His arms slowly encircled her waist from behind, he felt her leaning into him a little and once again it occurred to him how very wrong it all went. 

To people who don't know about it, it’s hardly visible any more that only two months ago there still was a baby. She got her figure back remarkably quick. His guess is that this is what refusing to eat and being unable to sleep do to you. 

He is almost sorry now that the in-laws have not mentioned resuming Friday night dinners yet. Perhaps she would eat something then because keeping her mouth busy with chewing would be preferable to having to talk. Hell, he'd be glad to go out and get her a fat-dripping burger and chili fries right now. Ten times a day. Whatever, whenever. Like he did when- 

Her sigh made him blink and suddenly he was back down on earth. Standing there behind her in the doorframe, looking at what was not meant to be. 

"I love you. Don't ever forget that." 

"I love you, too." Then she turned around and with her back to the nursery began wiping at her eyes. When she looked up at him, there was one last black trail of wetness on her cheek that she had missed and he soaked it up with the hem of his right sleeve. 

"Guess I shouldn't have put on any make-up after all. No use, apparently." A thin smile broke through the sad façade of her features as she spoke and then started to descend the stairs.

The kiss she placed on his lips before she disappeared through the front door to take on the challenge that is Stars Hollow felt like sandpaper on his lips, but nevertheless he kissed her back, clenching his left hand in a painfully tight fist behind his back. 

Hopefully, the day out in the world would help the dark circles beneath her eyes pale a little. 

Hopefully, Sookie would find the right words.

Hopefully, by the time she got back he would have figured out what the hell to do with the furniture.

There still is the garage. Of course he could put everything in there. But ever since they emptied the room for the baby she goes into the garage once every week, to look for something or other that used to be in the house, but isn’t any longer. Or at least that's what she used to do. Before. Now she doesn’t take much of an interest in anything any longer.

And isn't the garage a tad too humid for brand new furniture like this? But is it at all important what happens to the wood? Who knows whether they'll ever need it again.

There is only one thing he is sure about: He doesn't want to put her under any kind of pressure, doesn't want to suggest she forget about their son, that she get pregnant again any time soon, that they ever have another child.

The saying is that you 'cannot NOT communicate', but right now he would prefer it if the opposite was the case and his actions did not convey any message, whether he intends to or not.

They should have talked about it. But talking has never been his strong suit and somehow it isn't hers any more, either.

A great fatigue invades his limbs and he sits down next to the pile of wooden parts. For the past few weeks he has been walking on nothing but black ice. Never sure whether with the next step he will fall. He doesn't want to fall, and not because he’s afraid of pain. He can handle pain. He just despises being forced to take another person's hand so he can get back to his feet.

A look at the clock tells him it’s time to make a decision. Fast. The big parts of the rocking chair, the changing table, and the shelves go up in the attic. The rest he will have to store in the garage, whether he wants to or not.

Balancing the awkwardly shaped pieces up the steep ladder that leads up into the kingdom of everything eight-legged doesn't take as much time as he thought it would. And so he finds himself standing in front of the garage door sooner than he likes. On his shoulder rests the headboard of the crib they bought some time after Christmas and in his hands he thoughtfully weighs the key to the garage.

After setting down the heavy headboard, he unlocks the door and it falls open with a quiet creak. What he sees still takes him by surprise every time. His father's boat, right there, in the middle of the garage, still as unfinished as it was when Lorelai bought it from Mrs. Thompson a lifetime ago.

He doesn't remember the garage being this crammed. There isn’t even one free corner. His gaze falls upon his father's boat once more.

What he does next comes unexpected, especially to him.

The headboard fits into the internal space of the boat nicely, with it still lacking seats and everything else a boat should have. And there is room for more.

When he has shoved the last wooden part into the boat and is resting his hand on its side, an odd sense of comfort comes over him. 

Good thing he kept the boat. Hadn't she told him so? 

Of course back then she could not have known how the boat would be of use one day.

And then, out of the blue, he feels himself fall despite the fact that he is still standing securely on both of his feet, next to his father's boat.

~*~

"Mom!" leaning out of the driver-side window of her car, Rory yells over to Lorelai on the other side of the street.

A small smile curls Lorelai's lips as she recognizes her daughter. She waves back at her and then makes her way over to where the car has meanwhile come to a standstill.

"Want me to give you a ride?" The passenger door is already open and she says yes.

"How's your week been?"

"Okay, I guess." 

Rory would love to say more, to tell Lorelai about the "A" she got on her literature paper, about the fun night she spent with Marty at the movies yesterday, but instead she keeps silent, planning to save the good news for when she knows what mood Lorelai is in today. Or maybe she just won't tell her at all and keep the happy stuff in her life to herself for the time being. After all, it hardly seems fair that she should enjoy herself back at school when her mom is suffering like this.

"That's good", Lorelai says in a toneless voice.

Then there is silence for the rest of the way.

"Here we are", she announces unnecessarily after killing the engine.

"Thank you, sweetie." Her mother's hand briefly strokes her cheek and then she is out of the car.

"Sookie says hello, by the way", Lorelai offers hesitantly when she is standing next to her as she unloads the trunk. "I was on the way home from her house when you picked me up."

"Really?" she doesn't care to hide the gladness in her voice. Sookie's house!

"Yeah. It was time to get out of the house again, I guess", Lorelai replies with a lopsided smile on her face.

"Oh, Mom." She takes her mother's hand and slings one bag across her shoulder, then grabs hold of the other with her free hand.

They are already moving in the direction of the house when Rory sees that the front door is slightly ajar.

"Is Luke home?"

"Yeah. He's clearing out the-"

"Oh." She can interject before Lorelai has to say the word.

"Yeah. Uh, listen, why don't you bring in your stuff and I go and get Luke? I haven't been in the backyard in forever." Rory doesn't miss the hint of artificiality behind Lorelai's cheerfulness, but simply obeys.

"Alright. Call if you need me."

"I will."

She lifts her bag from the ground and slowly trots up the porch steps and into the house just when she hears her mother's voice from the yard.

"Luke, are you in there?"

~*~

What is he doing in the garage? She would have thought that there was enough room in the attic for all the … stuff.

The closer she gets to the door, the clearer her idea of what exactly he is doing in there.

The bow of the boat is the first thing that comes into view when she opens the door fully and then a streak of light from outside falls on his bent over figure leaning against the boat.

He is crying. Crying like she has never seen him cry.

With the speed of light she is next to him, wrapping her arms around his trembling shoulders and pressing her cheek to his. The mixture of wetness and stubble she feels there reminds her of their trip to the beach last summer, of the sand between her toes and his refusal to put on the swimming trunks she got him.

When his hand leaves the side of the boat and reaches out for one of hers, she lets him take it, surprisingly grateful that she gets a chance to be the strong one for a change. He squeezes so hard it almost hurts, but she bears the sensation. Somehow it feels good to finally feel something again.

~*~

Neither of them notices Rory, who some time later comes looking for them and who, after having satisfied her need to find out whether they are okay, returns to the house under the impression that their chances to really be okay again one day have at least doubled.


	8. Epilogue

They resume Friday Night Dinners in late July.

At first it’s difficult. Too many memories seem to be in the room with them, suffocating the conversation they could be having. Lorelai's well-rounded stomach, the soft drinks and sparkling water she had instead of wine, the thoughtfulness with which Luke or Rory helped her up from the couch before they made their way over into the dining room – all of these images cloud their minds and make them hesitant to bring up everyday topics.

How can today be of any importance and rightfully talked about when yesterday still seems so real and unprocessed? So the first few Fridays are spent first in thought and stilted conversation, and later on, more privately, in frustration and tears.

But the more Fridays pass, the less awkward they feel. It gets easier to talk about what charitable function Emily is going to attend next. The ridiculous names of some of Richard's business partners manage to reap the laughter they deserve. The tension in Luke's shoulders fades noticeably with each week. One Friday morning at Yale, Rory finds herself actually looking forward to going to Hartford that night. And when on the same night Lorelai surprises everyone, including herself, by making a carrot speak to a piece of broccoli, suddenly they can all breathe a lot easier than before.

Slowly but surely they slip back into the comfortable routine of drink, food and togetherness. And with this growing security on the terrain of weekly dinners also the weekly teasing and nagging, squabbling and babbling return. They are not the Gilmores – or Daneses, for that matter – for nothing. Especially those among them with two x-chromosomes once again thrive on that kind of interaction, there is just nothing they can do about it. Nor do they really want to any more.

Indeed, being given the chance to be there for Luke proves to be just what Lorelai needs to find a way back into some kind of life. This life she begins to conquer for herself doesn’t resemble her old one in every respect, but somehow that’s okay. It hurts, but she learns to accept the direction her life has taken and with each day it gets easier to walk the path laid out for her and not look back all too often or for much too long. Easy laughter and a quick tongue return to her step-by-step. And whenever she feels guilty about it, she remembers the words Rory said to her after the word "dirty" escaped her lips for the first time in weeks and immediately sent her into a crying fit.

"I think he would have had your sense of humor. And I bet he would have loved to see you laugh."

One week after "the boat ... thing", as Luke refers to it from then on, Lorelai finds a crumpled-up piece of paper behind her nightstand while looking for an earring. Straightening it out, she recognizes it and after some thinking calls a number in Hartford. Why not give it a try?

The therapist is really nice and she discovers that 'the couch' is more of a cliché than reality. In fact, there is no couch. They sit facing each other as they talk. During the hour she spends at with the older woman, Lorelai cries a little, smiles a little and then, more towards the end, realizes that this is something that might actually work for her. She returns once a week for half a year and twice actually manages to drag Luke along.

The best therapy for him is being able to witness her becoming Lorelai again. On her first day back at the inn she comes into his diner before and after work, quietly takes and drinks the coffee he offers her, and then they kiss over the counter, just like the used to do. No sandpaper lips, not clenched fists, just kissing. As soon as she is out of the door and the jingle of the bells has subsided, he has to excuse himself to the back where in the morning he wipes away the wetness forming in his eyes and in the evening simply has to give the air a good punch. Yes! 

He thanks whatever higher power it is that grants them a second chance at life, and who knows: one day maybe even happiness.

~*~

"Watch out for the thorns, okay? We don't want you to hurt yourself. Look, there you go."

With that, Lorelai hands her the rose and silently watches the little girl trudge across the grass towards her destination. When she has reached it, she turns around and looks back at them, as if to ask for their approval.

"Right there is fine, honey", Lorelai says and nods her head. The toddler's forehead puckers up in concentration, but then her hand opens and the flower falls to the ground. It comes to rest next to dozens of others.

"Well done!" Luke praises and gives Lorelai’s waist another squeeze before removing his arm from around her and kneeling down on the ground.

With a delighted squeal their daughter makes her way over to where he extends his arms for her. He scoops her up into his embrace and stands up next to Lorelai.

"Another year, huh?"

"Yeah. Another year." She leans over to where the little girl is burrowing her head in the crook of her father's neck and caresses her cheek.

"I can't believe it's already been four years", he states and clears his throat, causing the girl to lift her head and look around curiously at the noise.

"Me neither", Lorelai replies and then presses a kiss onto their child's forehead. They stand in silence for a minute or two, each lost in their own thoughts.

Her mind wanders back to this day three years ago. She sees herself telling him she wants them to try again.

The memory of this day two years ago brings back the images of a stick turning pink in her trembling hands, of him spending an incredibly cold week in January carrying and reassembling wooden nursery furniture, of that day in February as happy, as scary, as painful, and as relieving as there never was one before and probably never will be again. And here they stood, her holding a huge bouquet of flowers and him carrying a car seat in which their second baby slept.

"You ready to go?" he asks after a while, averting his gaze from the headstone reading Julian Michael Danes – May 8th 2006 – We will never understand.

She nods and interlaces her fingers with his as they begin to make their way back to where they have parked their car. On the way there their daughter starts to squirm in his arms and so he sets her down on the ground and takes one of her tiny hands in his, slowly walking the rest of the way with her.

Already leaning against the side of the truck, Lorelai can’t help herself but smile at the sight of Luke making toddler-size steps so that the little girl can keep up with him.

"What are you laughing at?" he asks when he looks up into her smiling face.

"Nothing. I love you, you know that?"

Just when he is about to reply, the girl clutching two of his fingers in that vice grips of hers decides that some object on the ground requires closer examination and therefore bends down, dragging his hand down with her. He would have laughed had anyone told him years ago how firm a little child's grip on one's hand can really be.

"Whoa, Mia, what's that down there?" he asks as he kneels down next to her.

Lorelai also steps a little closer to where their daughter is crouching in the grass.

"Fower!" Mia exclaims merrily and holds up a rumpled little daisy. "Take!"

"Alright, we can take it home and put it in a vase", Lorelai agrees, "but before we do that we go to Grandma and Grandpa's house for lunch, okay?"

Mia nods eagerly and gets back to her feet, clutching the daisy in one fist.

"I bet Grandma and Grandpa have a vase you can borrow." Luke tells his daughter as he lifts her up into his arms and then places her in her seat in the back of the truck.

They don't talk much on the way to Hartford, but nowadays silence has lost the awkwardness it once used to hold. In the rearview mirror Luke can see Mia still holding on to the daisy, even though she is fast asleep by now.

He points the sight out to Lorelai and once again she smiles at him. This smile is a little more crooked, though.

"Right now I really wish he could be here", she almost whispers and he nods in agreement.

"Yeah, me too." The single tear rolling down her cheek does not escape him.

He reaches for her hand and his right holds her left until the Gilmore residence comes into view. Rory's car is already parked in the driveway. When he has turned off the engine and they have unfastened their seatbelts, they lean in and kiss each other on the lips. 

Mia sighs softly and stirs in her seat, a new maid opens the front door and behind her Rory and the grandparents wave for them to come inside already.

It's May 8th, 2010 and they are doing okay.


End file.
